


A Father's Heart

by CaptainRex_ika



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Heartbreak, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, Slavery, War, war zone romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-10 20:24:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainRex_ika/pseuds/CaptainRex_ika
Summary: Obi-Wan has a secret.When he left the Jedi Order to fight on Melida/Daan, he wasn't only affected by the war and the deaths of those he fought and lived beside.His deepest pain came from the daughter he was forced to give up.Now, eight years later, a girl comes to the Jedi Temple, seeking her father...And his life is about to change.(Sorry for the crappy summary, I can never word it the way I want)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Obi-Wan is a very young father, but I needed the time-line to work...
> 
> This fic will cover prequels, Clone wars and into the original movies...and will be a slight fix-it?

**Eight Years Ago**

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi paced in front of the door, hand pulling worriedly at his padawan’s braid which he hadn’t had the heart to sever yet. It had been just over nine months since he had decided to remain on Melida/daan, resigning from the Jedi order, to help the Young fight in the civil war. Qui-Gon Jinn had just left him behind, taking the wounded Tahl, not even bothering to try and change his padawan’s mind.

Now the newly fourteen year old was left behind on the planet, fighting a civil war that he knew the Jedi should have assisted in, pacing in front of a curtain which served as a door to the bedroom of a rundown building, a result of the war, as he waited for news. 

He awaited news of his newborn. 

Obi-Wan knew that he was young, probably too young to be a father, especially in this warzone, but the prospect of dying always did seem to dull those factors. 

Who cared what age you were if you were fighting a war when you could die tomorrow?

Obi-Wan had been attempting to rest in one of the buildings the Young had taken refuge in when she had approached him. She was beautiful, even covered in the dirt and grime like the rest of the Young, her blonde hair tied back in a simple, elegant plait. She had sat down beside him and they had started talking. 

She didn’t care that he was younger than her, though only by two years, she had just smiled, laughing about ages.

_“Sweetheart, we’re in a war, who cares about ages when most of us won’t live to see our next life-day?”_

She had been patient with him, with his stammering and fumbling, shyness that a life at the Jedi Temple had instilled when it came to attraction. 

And now, here they were nine months later. 

“Sit down, Obi, before you wear another mark in this floor,” Cerasi teased him as she walked past, coming to check on him. Obi-Wan smiled nervously at the red-head as she squeezed his shoulder. 

“How is everything going, Cerasi?” Obi-Wan asked her, just needing a distraction. The female leader of the Young lifted an eyebrow as she smirked.

“Dear Obi-Wan, you aren’t asking me about the war when your child is being born, are you?” she teased gently. Obi-Wan gave a slight shrug and nervous grin. Cerasi shook her head, amused.

“Everyone is fine, wounded are treated and we’re sending out scouts to see what the Elders are up too,” she informed him. They both looked around as the curtain was pushed aside, a doctor coming out, looking tired. Cerasi ruffled Obi-Wan’s short copper hair. Though it had grown out from his padawan cut, it still remained short.

“Go on, Daddy, go see your baby,” she encouraged him gently, giving him a small push. Obi-Wan took in a deep breath, steeling himself, before he walked into the room. Cerasi smiled as she watched him.

It was heart-warming to see life being made instead of taken.

Obi-Wan walked into the room, grey eyes darting across the grey walls, to the broken furniture, finally resting on a cot in the centre of the room. A blonde female was on it, leaning propped up with the help of several pillows, blankets covering her lower half, and a tiny bundle in her arms as she cooed lovingly to it.

“Malaya,” he whispered. Malaya looked up at him and smiled, despite the weariness lining her youthful face.

“Come meet your daughter, Obi,” Malaya said tiredly, smiling down at the bundle in her arms. Obi-Wan walked over, sitting on the edge of the cot. Malaya smiled as she handed him the bundle. Obi-Wan took his daughter, holding her close and secure against his chest. 

She was swaddled in a blue blanket, but that didn’t stop her from wriggling her hands out to wave in the air, small hands clenching at the air. Obi-Wan smiled, warmth filling his being, as he took in her fluffy mass of blonde hair, though he could detect a hint of copper within the fluffy mass. Her blue-grey eyes stared at him as she burbled, fists clenching towards him. 

“She’s beautiful,” Obi-Wan whispered, leaning his nose down to nuzzle against his daughter’s button nose. She burbled once again. Malaya leaned over to look at her daughter, resting again Obi-Wan as she did so.

She spoke up, “I’ve decided on her name, which goes with my traditions.” Obi-Wan looked at Malaya curiously. 

He knew early on that Malaya would pick the child’s name, it was just how things went on her home planet of Arkania. Though she had run away from her home to try gain independence from her wealthy family, Malaya held her traditions close.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan questioned curiously. 

Malaya took back the newborn from Obi-Wan, cradling her close. “Yes, her name is to be Obala,” 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Obala?” he questioned. “That is a curious name,” 

Malaya laughed as she rocked her daughter. “It is a combination of her parents’ names, it is a popular way to get a child’s name on Arkania,” Malaya explained. Obi-Wan nodded, smiling as he watched his daughter.

For this moment, life was perfect. 

 

It was a week after Obala’s birth that Obi-Wan detected that something was wrong with Malaya. She had become withdrawn and quiet, dark circles appearing under her eyes as she struggled to sleep, and tended to snap at people around her, including Obi-Wan. 

The Force around her was rippling uneasily, distressed. 

He looked up from where he was sitting on a broken slab, going over maps, as she stalked up to him, Obala secured to her mother in a sling across Malaya’s chest. “Malaya,” he greeted softly, feeling dread pooling in his stomach. 

Malaya stared at him, blue eyes gone cold. “I’m leaving, Obi-Wan,” she told him. “This war is getting out of control and I can’t risk Obala,” Obi-Wan nodded in agreement.

“We will leave then,” he said softly, not wanting to leave the Young by themselves but knowing his daughter came first. Malaya shook her head firmly.

“No, I’m leaving, by _myself_ , Obi-Wan,” she ground out. Obi-Wan blinked, speechless. “I’ve comm’d my father, he’s coming to get me and Obala, but we are leaving without you,”

“Y-You can’t do this,” Obi-Wan stammered. “You can’t take her away from me!” 

Malaya clutched Obala closer. “I only wanted a child, Obi-Wan, you were an easy target for me to get what I wanted and now that I have her…” Malaya trailed off, sneering. Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes darkening.

“I will not let you take her from me. I’m her father!” 

“Obi-Wan, my family is rich, you want to try and get parental rights to her, you will lose,” Malaya explained, voice eerily calm. “You’re just a boy, an ex-Jedi padawan, who has nothing to his name fighting in a war, while I have a family who will support me, a comfortable home and Obala will live a comfortable life and have the best education.” 

Obi-Wan stumbled back, sinking to his knees amongst the ruins surrounding them.

He knew this was true.

“Please, don’t take her from me, Malaya, please,” he whispered, head lowered, so he missed the flicker of pain crossing Malaya’s face.

“If you let me leave with her, Obi-Wan, if you do not put up a fight, I will make sure you are kept updated with her,” Malaya promised. Obi-Wan nodded in defeat. “Here, Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan looked up to see a comm being offered to him. “It’s one just for us to communicate with.” Obi-Wan swallowed harshly, taking it from her.

“W-When are you leaving?” he asked, voice hoarse. Malaya looked down at Obala, readjusting her so Obi-Wan couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes.

“In two hours,” she murmured. Obi-Wan slowly got to his feet, walking over to look at his daughter, who was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the turmoil happening around her and between her parents.

“L-Let me hold her once more, please,” he whispered, pleading. Malaya hesitated.

“Your word that you will give her back to me,” she told him firmly. Obi-Wan nodded, defeated.

“You have my word.” 

Malaya carefully unwrapped Obala from her sling and handed her over to her father. Obi-Wan held her close, unable to stop the tears from falling. Obala blinked awake as tears landed on her face, scrunching her nose up at the feeling.

“Sorry, my darling,” Obi-Wan whispered, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. Obala cooed, reaching out to tug on Obi-Wan’s padawan braid, which fell over his shoulder. Obi-Wan laughed, the sound watery. “Oh, my love, don’t forget how much I love you,” Obi-Wan whispered, heart-breaking as he held her close to him, cheek against her chubby cheek. Malaya turned away, unable to watch. 

It was soon time for Malaya to leave. Obi-Wan watched the ship landing with trepidation, holding his daughter close to his chest.

He could run. He could just take her and run, go back to the Temple and beg them to protect her.

But he knew they would never do it, they’d never keep the baby from her mother. 

They’d sooner expel him.

Heart breaking, Obi-Wan kissed Obala’s forehead once more, nosing into the soft, fluffy hair on her small head. “I love you, my darling, I will always love you,” he whispered to her, voice breaking, before he handed her back to her mother. Obi-Wan quickly wrapped his arms around his slim frame, trying not to just reach out and take his daughter back. 

Cerasi came to stand beside him as Malaya walked to the ship, where she was greeted by an older, blond man, who hugged her tightly. 

“I’m sorry, Obi,” Cerasi murmured, gently squeezing Obi-Wan’s shoulder comfortingly. “But…perhaps it’s for the best, this war is starting to ramp up, we’re losing so many a day now.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes as the ship took off, pushing down his heart-break and pain. 

It was time to go back to a losing war. 

Obi-Wan knew he could no longer do this, the fighting was getting worse. They needed help. 

Obi-Wan’s grey eyes tracked the ship until it left his vision, feeling cold and empty.

He couldn’t do this, not alone, not anymore. His light was gone.

It was time to call Qui-Gon.


	2. Jedi Temple

**Present day**

 

Obala sat on the edge of the medical cot, her feet swinging as her legs dangled off the side, nowhere near touching the floor. She combed her fingers through the knotty copper strands of hair pulled into a messy pony-tail as she hummed to herself. Obala looked up as the door opened and Rita, an elder Kiffar nurse, walked into the medbay, which is only slightly bigger than a closet. Rita spotted Obala sitting on the bed and smiled as she walked over.

“What have you done, Obala dear?” she asked gently as she stopped beside the small eight year old. Obala looked at Rita, grey eyes sad, as she held out her arm, revealing a deep cut. Rita hissed in sympathy before turning to get the medication she would need.

Rita rested her equipment on the bed beside Obala and grabbed the antiseptic to clean the wound. “How’d you get that, sweet-heart?” she questioned as she began to clean the cut.

“One of the machines stopped working, cloth got jammed in it, Auntie said my arm was the smallest one and I had to get it out. I got it out but my arm got stuck and the machine cut it when it started again. It really hurt.” Obala explained. Rita paused, taking in a calming breath, before she continued to clean the wound.

Obala’s Aunt was in charge of the factory Rita was a nurse in (and only because it was the only job available) and she treated Obala like one of her slaves, mistreating her terribly, despite her being her own flesh and blood. 

Obala was one of the reasons Rita stayed and had been since Obala had first arrived four years ago, shortly after her mother’s death. She had been so small and innocent…and her Aunt abused her horrendously. 

Rita could remember all the times she saw Obala covered in bruises, burns and cuts, looking tired and thin, looking older than her eight years. Rita frowned, glancing at her equipment. “Now, where did I leave the gauze?” she murmured to herself. She gave a sigh as Obala lifted her hand and the packet of gauze floated over from where she had left it on the table on the other side of the room. Rita plucked it from the air and turned back to Obala, giving the small child a reproving look.

“You need to be careful when you do that, Obala, you know your Auntie does not like it and I do not want to give her another reason to beat you,” Rita told her gently. Obala nodded, pouting slightly.

“ _She_ doesn’t like it ‘cause I get it from my dad,” Obala mumbled. Rita looked at her sadly as she finished bandaging her arm.

They all knew that Obala’s father was a Jedi, having seen a holo-recording Obala’s mother had made to him after Jessup had saved it from a bin in the boss’s office when she had been cleaning. Jessup had turned it over to Obala, giving her some memory of her mother, but made sure Obala kept it hidden. They had managed to salvage a few holos of Obala’s mother for her over the years.

Rita gently stroked Obala’s messy copper hair as the young child leaned her head against Rita’s chest, getting comfort. 

“How did you sleep last night, darling?” Rita asked her softly as she tilted Obala’s head up to look at her face. Dark smudges marked under her grey-blue eyes, making them seem more intense, and making her appear a lot older than her eight years. Obala shook her head as she rested it back against Rita’s chest.

“Not well,” she admitted. “Auntie didn’t let me go to sleep until I finished scrubbing and then I had to get up to make her breakfast.” Rita closed her eyes, breathing out to try and remain calm in front of the child, as she soothingly stroked Obala’s back. Rita gently pushed Obala back until she was lying down, pulling the meagre blanket up to cover her.

“Rest here for a while, darling, I’ll cover for you,” Rita whispered as she stroked Obala’s forehead. Obala shook her head.

“Auntie will get mad at you,” she protested. Rita smiled, shaking her head.

“She can do so all she wishes,” Rita told her, watching as Obala’s eyes started to drift close, despite her protests. “I’ve got you, darling.” Rita stood, watching as Obala succumbed to sleep, sighing sadly.

This wasn’t a life for a child. 

Obala was the youngest in the factory at eight, the next youngest was a girl called Asla who was twelve that Lina, their boss, had been brought one day by an associate. Asla had no memory of her life before she was brought to the factory and Rita dreaded to know the real reason why that was.

Rita cast her eyes back to the sleeping child. 

However, despite Asla also being a slave, she was treated better than Obala. 

Rita pushed that thought aside and went to clean her infirmary. 

Not even half an hour later, the door burst open, slamming against the wall. Rita quickly got to her feet as Lina came in, dark eyes blazing, brown hair whipping across her face. Her eyes darkened when she spotted the sleeping child.

“Why is she sleeping?!” Lina yelled, startling young Obala awake. Obala immediately sunk down, as though to get away from her aunt’s rage. Rita stepped up, placing herself between the angry woman and the scared child.

“I told her to,” Rita said quickly. “She lost a bit of blood with that deep cut and I did not want her over-taxing herself that she passed out and hurt herself more,” she lied. “You wouldn’t want her to be taken to hospital with serious injuries, would you?” Lina scowled at Rita but conceded the point. She point at Obala, clicking her fingers.

“You, here… _now,_ ” Lina growled. Obala quickly leapt to her feet, scurrying over to stand beside her aunt. Linda glared at the small child who cowered beside her before she turned on heel, stalking from the infirmary, Obala close behind her. Obala did look back to shoot Rita a grateful smile before she quickly hurried on.

Rita sighed as she slumped back to lean against the cupboard, rubbing her eyes wearily. She looked up, setting her mouth in a firm line, before she marched from the infirmary, going to seek out friends.

It was time to end this.

 

A week later, Obala was scrubbing the tiles in the lunch-room when she heard someone enter behind her. 

“Obala, sweet-heart,” Obala turned around at her name, blinking in surprise when she saw Dalin standing there, bag in her hands. Obala quickly got to her feet, looking at the brunette. Dalin smiled at her, the dark tattoos across her pale face moving with the motion.

“Dalin, I-I thought you were leaving?” she asked, unsure, having heard her aunt grumble about having to hire new people. Dalin nodded, glancing around.

“I am, darling, but you’re coming with me,” Dalin explained, reaching out her hand. Obala stood frozen in shock.

There was no way she heard that right.

“W-What?” 

Dalin smiled softly at the confusion. “Rita, myself and a few others planned this a couple of weeks ago, when Rita found out I was leaving,” Dalin explained softly but quickly. Time was of the essence here. “Since I’m leaving the planet with my husband, Lina can’t fire me or threaten me, so we’re taking you to your father, like your mother wanted.” Dalin held up the small bag she was carrying. “Jessup already got me your collection of holos of your mother, including the one you need to show your father, and what little possessions you had hidden away from your aunt.”

“T-To my dad?” Obala whispered, heart beating fast in hope. Dalin nodded, holding out her hand once more. Obala grinned, leaping forward to take Dalin’s hand. Dalin smiled as they quickly left the room, heading towards the exit. Rita was waiting there, a bag in her hands, which she quickly handed to Dalin.

“Your husband is waiting with the speeder to take you to the space-port,” Rita hurried, “I’ve packed some extra clothes in there for her, put the jacket on her before you reach the port so they won’t notice her rags.” Rita’s eyes took in Obala’s dirty, torn clothes, before looking back at Dalin. “Jessup also spoke to Rich, he’ll be at the port to get you through,” Rita finally turned her attention to Obala. “Now, you take care of yourself, little one, and live the life you deserve with a father who loves you.” Obala nodded as Rita bent down to hug her tightly. 

“I-I haven’t said goodbye to Asla,” Obala mumbled, sniffling slightly. Rita hugged her tighter.

“I’ll tell her you said goodbye, Obala, she’ll understand why you couldn’t,”

“Hurry now, we have to go,” Dalin whispered urgently as she peered out the door. Rita nodded as she let Obala go, getting to her feet. Dalin took Obala’s hand once more and smiled at Rita.

“You take care of her,” Rita warned her with a smile. “You know what she means to us.” Dalin smiled.

“We’ll see her to the Jedi Temple safely, Rita, but please take care of yourself and the others,” Dalin implored, “she’ll be so angry when she discovers what we’ve done.” Rita waved her hand dismissively. 

“I’ll deal with her, now go!” 

Dalin squeezed Obala’s hand comfortingly before they darted out the door, heading to the speeder waiting. Dalin’s husband was waiting by the side, where he smiled at Obala before lifting her up and getting her into the speeder, Dalin jumping in after her, before getting in himself.

He quickly took off down the street. 

“Any problems, love?” he asked, glancing at Dalin. She shook her head, leaning back in relief.

“No, Dar,” she breathed, “We got out clear.” Dar smiled, glancing back at Obala. Obala examined the dark skinned man, trusting his kind green eyes immediately.

“How are you, Obala?” he asked. “Ready to leave this place?” Obala nodded, arms wrapping around her middle. Dar smiled at her reassuringly before focusing back on driving.

They arrived at the space port shortly after. 

Dalin quickly dug out a jacket for Obala, which she gratefully put on, shivering. 

The trio headed into the port, Obala between the couple, both of them holding a hand each. 

A deep voice made them freeze. “I hope you have the right travel papers for her.” A Duros in the port uniform stepped out in front of them, grinning. Dalin sighed.

“Rich, did you really have to do that?” she sighed, relieved. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” 

Rich shrugged. “Worth it,” he chuckled. “Now, let’s get you to your transport so no one else stops you.” The four of them walked to a large ship that was heading to Coruscant. Rich waved away the Inspector at the ship before turning to the trio.

“Take care of yourselves, okay?” Rich smiled. “And don’t forget to comm Jessup when you have the baby!” Dalin smiled as she placed a hand on her still flat stomach. It was still early days, but she needed to get away from Lina now. 

Obala stared up at the ship as the adults spoke some more.

She couldn’t believe it.

She was finally getting away from her aunt.

She was finally going to meet her dad.

 

The trip only took a day and soon Obala found herself standing on Coruscant, looking out in awe at all the buildings that reached far into the sky, the traffic rushing in organized chaos. 

“Ready, sweetie?” Obala looked to Dalin and nodded. Dar smiled as he called the air-taxi. Obala curled up in between them as they travelled towards the Jedi Temple. The driver had scoffed when Dar had told them their destination.

“ _That ain’t no tourist spot, they don’t let anyone in there_ ,” 

Dar had just rolled his eyes and directed him there all the same. Dar smiled as he stroked Obala’s hair, which Dalin had managed to get a brush through to neaten it, as the child leaned against him, grey eyes staring out the window.

“It’s okay to be nervous, love,” Dar whispered to her. Obala looked at him and smiled.

“I-I am, but I’m excited too,” Obala whispered. “Mum used to tell me that Dad was saving people and that’s why he couldn’t be with us, that he _had_ to be out there, that the galaxy needed him.” Dar smiled at her. 

“We’re here,” the driver announced. Obala sat up, eyes widening as she took in the large building. Dalin slipped out of the taxi, Obala following her, with Dar close behind after giving the driver instructions to wait. 

The driver had been confused but once he saw Dalin giving Obala the small backpack, he understood. 

“We’re going to leave you here, honey,” Dalin told her, crouching down. “Our flight to Naboo leaves soon, and you’re safe here.” Obala nodded, nerves bundling in her stomach as she clutched her bag tighter. Dar knelt down beside her, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” Obala whispered as she clutched him tightly. Dar chuckled as he let her go, getting to his feet.

“Take care of yourself, sweetie,” 

Obala nodded, turning towards the steps leading up to the Temple and started walking. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Dar and Dalin watching her. They both smiled and waved once more before getting back into the taxi. 

Taking in a deep breath, Obala climbed the stairs. 

Obala stared up at the large pillars framing the door in awe.

This place was huge.

“Hang on, kid, you can’t just go in there,” a guard stopped her, smiling. Obala looked at him.

“I-I’m looking for someone,” she stammered. The guard crouched down beside her, feeling sorry for the nervous looking, bedraggled kid. 

“Who are you looking for?” he asked gently. “I can page for them,” 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she answered, voice shaking. 

“Why are you looking for him?” he asked curiously as he reached for his comm. 

“He’s my dad.”

The guard froze, eyes widening in shock, taking in the small girl in the oversized blue jacket, dirty pants and shoes that looked too big, to the skinny face and tired grey eyes, to the copper hair pulled back into a plait. 

The guard smiled, hoping to make her less nervous. “Let me go call someone to take you to him,” he told her as he stood up. He took a step away, quickly dialling the comm code.  
Best make this comm out of earshot.

“ _Windu,_ ” the voice answered. 

“Master Windu, I think you best come to the main doors,” he replied.

There was a pause. “ _Why is that?_ ” the council member asked curiously.

“There’s a young girl here, claiming that Obi-Wan Kenobi is her father, and honestly, Master Windu, she looks like him,” The guard answered, glancing back at the girl, who was clutching onto her bag, glancing around nervously and looking small. 

“ _I’ll be right there,_ ”  
The guard went back to the small girl, once again looking her over.

She looked so small and meek. 

He hoped Windu was in a friendly mood today, not his usual _‘scare all the younglings’_ mood.

“I’ve got someone coming to take you to him,” he told the young girl gently. She smiled shakily at him, clutching at her bag tighter.

“Thank you.” 

He looked around and he spotted Windu coming out the doors. 

Mace Windu had been surprised to get that comm. It wasn’t something he heard every day, that a child came to the Temple claiming to be looking for their father. 

However, when he came out of the doors and spotted Mathias with a small copper-haired child, the Force around him sung and he _knew_ that she was Kenobi’s daughter. 

Windu examined the Force around her, feeling her nervousness, her excitement, her worry all swimming around, merging from one to the other and back again. He frowned as he felt an undercurrent of fear and hurt rippling through her.

Something had happened to her.

Grey eyes turned to him and the familiarity of them almost took his breath away.

Oh, Kenobi had a **lot** of explaining to do. 

“Hello there, youngling,” he greeted gently, the Force telling him to take care with her. “My name is Mace Windu, I am a Jedi Master here.”

“I-I’m Obala,” she stammered out. “Obala Kenobi, I guess.” Windu smiled gently as he crouched beside her.

“You guess?” he questioned her softly. 

“M-My aunt never liked me using that name a-and I wasn’t allowed to be called by Mum’s last name either,” Obala explained quietly, shifting nervously. Windu frowned at that, taking in her mismatched, oversized and somewhat dirty clothes. 

“Why don’t we go inside?” he suggested. “We’ll comm your dad to meet us.” Obala nodded, putting her backpack on again. Windu turned to Mathias. “If you could comm Kenobi and tell him to meet me at Yoda’s chambers in twenty, don’t tell him why,” Mathias nodded, turning away to do so. Windu turned once more to the small child and gestured for her to follow him, which she did so immediately. 

He smiled at her awe as they stepped inside the Temple, into the large, open area that served as their main hall. 

“This place is huge,” Obala breathed. Windu couldn’t help but chuckle at the innocence of it. 

“Yes, it is,” he answered as they walked. 

“Do you get lost?” she asked. Windu shook his head.

“No, once you’ve been here as long as I have, you know your way around and the Force guides us as well,” he explained. “How old are you, youngling?” 

“Eight,” Obala answered easily. Windu frowned.

She was much too small for an eight year old human, compared to the others her age. 

They finally stopped outside a door. 

“Could you wait here for me for a moment?” Windu asked. Obala nodded and Windu walked into the room. He spotted Yoda sitting on one of the meditation chairs, eyes closed.

“News you have for me, hmm, Master Windu?” Windu barely held back his sigh at the green troll’s question.

Of course he knew. 

He quickly explained about the young girl claiming to be Obi-Wan’s daughter. 

Yoda hummed, frowning. “Melida/Daan was where the child was born, only explanation there is,” he hummed thoughtfully. “Bring the girl in, meet her I must.” Windu did so. 

Yoda examined the young human in front of him.

Yes, she was much too small for her age and very weary for her age too. 

“Older beyond your years, you are,” Yoda told her. Obala blinked, confused at that sudden statement. 

They didn’t get much further than that as the chime to the chambers rang. Windu opened the door, revealing Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Master Qui-Gon Jinn.  
Windu sighed.

He should have expected Qui-Gon to turn up too. 

Obi-Wan froze as he stepped into the room and his eyes landed on the girl standing by Yoda.

“Obala,” he choked out, not believing it. 

“Know her, you do,” Yoda sighed. “True it is then.” Qui-Gon looked confused.

“What are you talking about, Master?” he questioned. “What’s going on here?”

“This is Obala, your Padawan’s daughter,” Windu answered as he walked to stand behind the young girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. “She just turned up on our door-step.” 

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, long hair whipping around with him. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?!” he exclaimed, shocked. Obi-Wan didn’t seem to hear him though, still focused on his daughter. 

Qui-Gon could feel his longing through the Force, the longing to go and just hug his daughter. 

Obi-Wan swallowed, finally tearing his eyes away from his daughter. “What will happen to us now, Masters?” he asked, voice hoarse. Windu sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

“You know we have rules about this, Padawan,” Windu said. “This could mean your expulsion from the order.”

Obi-Wan would have accepted this, anything to be with his daughter again, but her shout made everyone pause.

“NO!” she cried out. “You can’t! Mum said that Dad had to be a Jedi that everyone’s lives depend on it!” Yoda frowned at that, curious. Obi-Wan looked shocked by that. “I’ll leave, but y-you can’t kick him out, please, _please_ , he has to be a Jedi, Mum said that’s why we couldn’t be together, that it was important that he stayed a Jedi…Mum said…Mum…said…” 

Obala dropped to the floor, unconscious before she hit the ground, not hearing the concerned yells that echoed as she did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That ended up being longer than I thought, but I wanted her at the Temple...


	3. Last Message

Obi-Wan dived to his daughter’s side as Windu quickly crouched down beside, hand hovering over her side, a frown on his face.

“She shouldn’t have passed out,” Windu muttered, “There’s no reason why she should have.” Yoda hopped down from his seat to examine Obala’s face as Obi-Wan took her hand, looking pale and worried. 

“Not well, this child is,” Yoda murmured, concerned, as he examined the Force around her. “To the Halls of Healing we must go.” Qui-Gon put his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, gently pulling his Padawan back as Windu pulled the young girl into his arms, lifting her with ease.

Far too easily actually. 

“She’s far too light,” Windu said, concerned, as he glanced at Yoda, who was quickly climbing up Qui-Gon’s arm to perch on his back.

Yoda hummed in concern. “Hurry, we must,” he pressed, ears drooping sadly. Windu swept from the room, dark robes swinging out behind him, as he carried the unconscious Obala. Obi-Wan quickly hurried to walk beside him, keeping a worried eye on his daughter. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t see this,” Qui-Gon murmured as he followed behind Windu, a small distance away. Yoda sighed in his ear.

“Hide his pain from us, Obi-Wan did, for what reason we do not know,” Yoda sighed. “Get to the bottom of this, we must, to determine their futures,” Qui-Gon sighed, nodding.  
He knew this was not good for his Padawan.

They got to the Halls of Healing moments after Windu and Obi-Wan, finding Master Healer Vokara Che already hovering over the unconscious Obala as Windu laid her out onto one of the white sheeted beds, murmuring to Master Che about who she was and what had happened. Master Che rested a blue hand on Obala’s forehead, the Twi’lek frowning, before she turned to the four gathered around her. 

“Out, out!” she shooed them from the room. “I need to examine my patient.” The four, including Yoda, left the room, the door shutting behind them.

They wouldn’t argue against Master Che, not even Yoda.

Obi-Wan paced, tugging at his padawan braid nervously. 

“She will be okay, Padawan,” Qui-Gon soothed, sending him calming vibes along their bond. The twenty-two year old ran a hand through his short, spiky, copper hair in disbelief.

His daughter was _here_.

“Obi-Wan, perhaps you should tell us about your daughter,” Windu spoke up evenly. “Such as why you never told anyone about her.” 

Obi-Wan slumped down into a seat beside Qui-Gon, burying his head in his hands. 

“Mace, perhaps this can wait…” Qui-Gon began to say before Obi-Wan cut him off.

“I-It’s okay, Master, I-I need to tell this,” Obi-Wan whispered, lifting his head. Yoda settled down beside Windu as Obi-Wan gathered his thoughts. 

“I met her mother, Malaya, when I was on Melida/Daan,” Obi-Wan began. He told them the story of how they met and fell in love and how they had been happy, at least Obi-Wan had thought they had been, until a week after Obala was born. “She threatened to take Obala away from me for good, that I’d never be involved in her life if I didn’t let her go,” Obi-Wan said, voice shaking slightly, as he tried to release his hurt into the Force, trying not to let it overwhelm him. “I-I let her go.” 

“Did she keep you involved in her life?” Qui-Gon questioned, brow furrowing. Obi-Wan gave a small nod.

“Until she was four, I received holos and stories of how Obala was going, even the occasional drawing Obala had done,” Obi-Wan chuckled shakily. “But then it went silent four years ago and I thought that Malaya had decided that it was enough, that she had…moved on.” Obi-Wan took in a breath, trying to calm his raging emotions. “I knew there was nothing I could do,”

“Why did you think that, Padawan?” Windu asked, frowning. 

“As Malaya told me when she took Obala away, I was nothing, I had nothing, I couldn’t provide for a daughter,” Obi-Wan explained, keeping his grey eyes focused on the pale pink floor, voice empty of emotion. “She came from a family of wealth, even if the Jedi were to back me, no court would give me parental rights, not when I was so young.”

“Wealth does not mean everything, young one,” Yoda spoke up. Obi-Wan gave a bitter laugh.

“It’s not just wealth, Master Yoda, her family was one of the well-known families of Arkania and in the mining business,” Obi-Wan explained, clasping his hands tightly together, nails digging into the back of his hands. “You don’t go against the Corsairs' and win.” 

The four lapsed into silence. 

“So, you kept this hidden for eight years?” Windu asked gently. Obi-Wan nodded, refusing to make eye contact. Yoda and Windu exchanged thoughtful looks. 

They all looked around as Master Che came out of the room.

“Master Che, how is she?” Obi-Wan asked quickly, leaping to his feet. Vokara gave him a sad look.

“At the moment, she’s still unconscious, but seeing the state of her, I am not surprised,” Vokara explained gently, folding her hands into the sleeves of her light brown robe.

Qui-Gon frowned as he stood to stand by his apprentice. “What do you mean?” he asked, concerned, as he put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. 

Vokara’s blue eyes flickered between the four of them before she sighed. “Young Obala is extremely underweight for a human child her age, it has affected her height,” Vokara started to explain. “She’s covered in bruises, with signs of bones being broken and healed multiple times, with multiple scars as well.” Obi-Wan gave a pained moan and sunk to his knees. Vokara looked at him sympathetically. “Obala has been abused for numerous years, it’s lucky she got to us when she did,” Vokara hesitated momentarily before deciding to be blunt. “If she had stayed where she was for much longer, she probably would not have made it to her next life-day,” 

“Malaya, what have you done?” Obi-Wan moaned, heart-broken. 

“What caused her to faint?” Windu spoke up, concerned, glancing sadly at the distressed Padawan, who Qui-Gon was trying to soothe. 

“Besides her health?” Vokara pointed out. “Stress, it caused her heart to beat quicker but because she’s so underweight she wasn’t getting the blood flow she needed and it caused her to faint.” Windu nodded, looking to Yoda. 

“You can go sit with her if you’d like, but don’t stress her out when she wakes up,” Vokara warned, eyeing them all. Obi-Wan immediately got to his feet, walking into the medical room. Grey eyes flitted over the soft blue walls and the medical equipment before they rested on the bed. Obala was still unconscious, in a hospital gown for younglings, with the blanket pulled up to her stomach. Her bruised arms rested on her stomach.

She looked so small and frail.

“Force, she’s tiny,” Obi-Wan didn’t acknowledge Qui-Gon’s mutter, going instead to sit on the chair beside the bed, taking one of his daughter’s small hands and clasping it between his own.

She was so cold.

Still, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel disbelief at the fact he was holding his daughter’s hand, after all of these years.

She was _here_. 

It was not even an hour later, when Obala started to stir. Obi-Wan straightened up in his seat, grey eyes fixed to his daughter’s face, ignoring the sounds of the others in the room shifting as well. 

He gently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Obala,” he called gently. “Obala, it’s time to wake up.” 

Grey eyes identical to his flickered open and landed on him, widening slightly in surprise before warmth rushed through them, making Obi-Wan smile shakily. 

“Dad,” Obala murmured, sitting up and reaching out her arms. Obi-Wan immediately stood, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. He buried his nose into her hair, holding her tight, never wanting to let her go again. 

“My baby girl,” Obi-Wan whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” Obala shook her head against his chest before tilting her head back to meet his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she told him. “You didn’t know.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

“I should have fought harder for you, Obala, I shouldn’t have let your mother take you from me,” he sighed, stroking her hair. “You wouldn’t have been so hurt if I had just fought for you!”

“But you had to be a Jedi, Mum always said that, that’s why she loved you,” Obala told him, looking up at him determinedly. 

Obi-Wan sighed sadly, stroking her cheek bone. “Obala, your mother didn’t want me in your life, she told me that, and I foolishly trusted her when she told me you would be fine. She never loved me, sweet-heart, she…she just wanted to use me to get you,” Obala shook her head repeatedly.

She had to show him.

He _had_ to **know**. 

“My bag, where’s my bag?” she asked, worried, grey eyes glancing around. She quickly spotted it on a chair in the corner and thrust out her hand, the bag flying from the chair and into her outstretched hand.

“Well, that answers that question,” she heard Windu murmur. Obala dug through the bag, sifting through the holo discs before coming to the one she was after. Obala activated it and rested it on her covered knee, letting it play. 

It showed a blonde woman resting in a bed, looking pale and gaunt. 

“Malaya,” Obi-Wan murmured, catching sight of it. 

“ _My name is Malaya Corsair and this is my last Will and Testament,_ ” Malaya spoke up, her voice hoarse. “ _My daughter, Obala Corsair-Kenobi, is to be given to her biological father, Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, of the Jedi Temple in Coruscant, to be loved and raised by him. He is to also be shown this message._ ” Malaya paused, breathing in deeply. “ _My dearest Obi-Wan, I know that this will come to a shock to you, giving you our daughter after all of those terrible things I said on Melida/Daan, but I need you to know what I said…those horrible things I told you, I had to tell you. I had to get you to let us go, I know you needed to be a Jedi, and Obala and I would have kept you from your destiny._

_“You see, shortly after Obala’s birth, I started getting these terrible dreams…these terrible visions. I saw us, a happy family, you being the loving, doting father and husband I always knew you’d be, with our beloved daughter, a young teen in my vision. We were happy and carefree and then a great darkness came, quickly swallowing up everything around us and though you tried to protect us, it quickly consumed us too._ ” Malaya paused once again, this time seeming to steel herself. “ _I saw the Galaxy burning, billions dying as this shadow spread across the Galaxy, an army marching, killing everyone and everything in its path, as the Galaxy filled with despair and hopelessness…but then it changed, I saw **you** , my beloved, standing as a Jedi, a beacon of light fighting for those the darkness wanted to destroy and I knew, this vision made me **know** that the world needed you, not as a father, but as a Jedi._ ” Malaya rubbed her eyes, tears slipping from her tired blue eyes, rolling down her cheeks. 

“ _I tried to ignore these dreams at first, but they got worse, beginning to affect me when I was awake and I **knew** I had to let you go, I had to let you find your way back to the Jedi, where you were needed. So, I said all of those horrible things to you, things I never meant, Obi-Wan, please believe me, I loved you and I still do and that’s why I knew I had to let you go, for the futures sake, for our daughter’s future._ ” Malaya leaned back against the pillows, looking worn and tired. 

“ _My dying wish, Obi-Wan, is that Obala is reunited with her father. I am hoping that Jedi takes my dying wish into consideration and allows you to keep being a Jedi while having Obala in your life. As she grows, and my goodness she’s becoming more like you every day especially with her Force powers, the toys that go flying across the room,_ ” Malaya laughed. “ _As she grows, I can tell she’s meant for more than I could provide for her. She’s meant to do something great, to help people, just like her daddy. So, I hope and pray that the Jedi will allow you two to be together, to help the Galaxy, or at least to give you something to fight for, to fight this darkness for the sake of our child and the children in the Galaxy. I have such dreams for Obala, but the one I long for is that she’s happy and safe with you, helping others as she is destined to do._ ” Malaya’s eyes drifted shut, another tear escaping her. “ _My time runs short now, though I wished I could have seen Obala grow up, wished to see her reach her destiny, but I cannot. My sister will bring her and this message to you once I am gone, my lawyer will have a copy of this Will so you will be legally recognized as her parent if anyone wishes to fight against it, and also so he can prepare things for Obala when she comes of age._

_I am sorry for all the hurt I caused you, my dearest Obi-Wan, but know that I have, and will always, love you._ ” Obi-Wan sat back as Obala stopped the holo.

“There is more,” she admitted, “but it’s mostly about money and property and stuff,” 

“Obala, when did your mother pass?” Qui-Gon spoke up, coming to stand beside Obi-Wan. 

“Four years ago,” Obala said sadly, looking at the holo disc sadly. Obi-Wan lifted his head, tears swimming in his grey eyes.

“W-Why weren’t you brought here? Where have you _been_?” Obi-Wan asked her, dreading the answer. Obala fidgeted with the blanket under her hands. 

“My aunt kept me,” Obala answered, grey eyes fixed on the white blanket. “S-She said I was nothing more than a slave and that you wouldn’t want me. So she took me to her factory on Osiris and made me work there and hurt me too.” Obi-Wan made a wounded noise, clenching his hands into fists.

“Calm yourself, Padawan, she is with us now, she is safe,” Qui-Gon murmured reassuringly to Obi-Wan, though he was feeling quite angry himself.

Obala looked at Obi-Wan, alarmed. “I knew it wasn’t true!” she told him vehemently. “I knew you loved me, I-I remember you telling me,” Obi-Wan gave a shaky smile as he took his daughter’s hand once more, squeezing it.

“Of course I love you, and I always will,” he promised her. Obala smiled. Obi-Wan’s eyes landed on Windu and Yoda, who were conversing quietly after what they had just witnessed. Qui-Gon noticed as well.

“Masters, does this recording help determine what my young Padawan and his daughter’s fate will be?” he asked. Obala’s breath hitched, nervous, but Obi-Wan jus squeezed her hand reassuringly, smiling at her. Vokara went to her side to calm her. Windu and Yoda turned to face the trio.

“It has,” Windu spoke up. 

“Stay with the Jedi, you both will,” Yoda continued. “Determined this, the Force has, with the visions it sent to Obala’s mother,”

“How do you know they just weren’t nightmares, Master?” Qui-Gon asked, a little on edge at the description of the future that his Padawan may face. 

“Trust in the Force, we must,” Yoda just replied simply, in that infuriating way of his. Windu nodded in agreement.

“The Force is pushing that Obi-Wan remains a Jedi, with Obala remaining here also,” agreed Windu. 

“Will she be trained?” Obi-Wan questioned, sitting beside his daughter on the bed, Obala immediately snuggling against his side. Yoda gave a small shake of his head.

“No, she is too old,” Yoda answered. Obala gave a small shrug, just happy to be with her father. 

“What about the issue of attachment?” Qui-Gon asked. “Others will complain about this once they find out Obi-Wan has a daughter.” 

“Remain quiet on that matter, we must,” Yoda spoke up. “Only few will know that Obala is Obi-Wan’s daughter, until the time is right.”

“As for the attachment, Obi-Wan having hidden this with no ill feeling or sway towards the Dark side, proved to us that attachment will not be an issue for him,” Windu added, dark eyes landing on Obi-Wan. “We only hope it will remain that way.” Obi-Wan nodded.

He loved his daughter, but he knew he would never turn to the Dark side for her, she would never forgive him if he did.

“What will happen to Obala when we’re on assignments? What will she do if she stays with us if she is not to be trained as a Jedi?” Obi-Wan questioned suddenly, concerned. 

“If I may,” Vokara spoke up. All eyes immediately went to the blue Twi’lek healer. “I could take Obala as a helper in the Halls of Healing and train her to be a Healer, it also allows me to keep an eye on her to make sure she’s healing well.” 

Yoda hummed thoughtfully, “Sounds reasonable, this does,” 

“Obala, would you like to be trained as a Healer?” Qui-Gon asked her. Obala smiled, nodding. 

“I would,” she answered as she curled closer to her father. “Rita would be happy.” The others remained quiet at that remark, knowing more of her last few years would come out eventually.

“Once you have healed yourself and Master Che deems you well, you can start helping her here,” Windu spoke up, smiling at the young girl. “Until she has healed and has had some time to settle in, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, you’re on leave from assignments.” 

“That’s reasonable,” Qui-Gon sighed, before smiling as he caught sight of his Padawan and his Padawan’s daughter curled up together, both smiling at each other. 

It was time he could use to get to know his, well, granddaughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As to why Windu and Yoda agreed so easily (besides the vision) is that they saw that Obi-Wan had kept this hidden, yet never let the pain or heart-break even sway him a little bit towards the dark side, despite also having a daughter out there he never let it get in the way of his duties to the Jedi, which is why they're giving him this chance...


	4. Master Deacon

Obala was released from the Halls of Healing a few hours later, Qui-Gon given bottles of some sort of paste to be added to Obala’s food to help her put on weight and to regain much needed nutrients. Qui-Gon had blinked, confused, at Master Che as she had shoved the bottles into his arms, rattling off orders. She had fixed him with a stern blue eye.

“You’re the master here, you make sure she gets that,” she ordered him. “Don’t be expecting her to take care of herself like you do your apprentice.” Qui-Gon had attempted to protest that, but she had just shoved him out of the Halls, the door sliding shut behind him. Obi-Wan refused to make eye-contact after hearing that last comment. 

It was well known that he and Qui-Gon had their rough patches, with some Masters accusing Qui-Gon of ignoring the wellbeing of his Padawan at times, which was somewhat true. 

Obala blinked sleepily up at her father from where she was nestled in his arms. He just smiled at her before he carried her down the long pale blue halls, away from the Halls of Healing and towards the living quarters. Obala’s grey eyes examined her surroundings as she was carried through the Temple, Obi-Wan murmuring to her about where they were in the Temple. 

The sheer size of the place was awe inspiring and watching the halls change from soft colours to gleaming wood to cool tiles and then back again to the soft colours when they reached the living quarters. 

They received a few odd looks from passing Jedi, but no one spoke up, allowing the odd trio to make their way to Qui-Gon’s and Obi-Wan’s quarters. Qui-Gon unlocked the door, allowing the three inside. 

The quarters were on the large size as it was a Master and Padawan suite. The walls were a soft grey with white trims. A window looked out over into one of the Temple gardens, a dining table in front of the window, with a large, leafy green plant sitting on top of it. Obala eyed off the many different coloured plants decorating the living quarters. 

They were _everywhere_.

In the kitchen, in the lounge on opposing sides of the dark blue couch, next to the lone arm-chair, also on the small table in front of the couch.

It was a leafy invasion. 

“There’s a few hours before dinner,” Qui-Gon spoke up as he piled the medicine bottles onto the kitchen bench. “Why don’t you two rest and catch up?” Obi-Wan gave a small nod, carrying Obala into his bedroom. 

Obi-Wan’s bedroom was fairly neat, only a few books piled up on his desk and some on his floor, his bed unmade with his sleeping clothes piled on the end. No plants in sight. 

Obi-Wan carefully set Obala on one side of the bed before climbing in on the other side, lying beside her. Obala smiled at her dad, lifting her hand to tug at his Padawan’s braid. 

Obi-Wan smiled back softly as he took her hand, kissing it softly. 

“I have missed you, my darling,” he murmured, his grey eyes warm. Obala snuggled in close to her dad, listening to his reassuring heart-beat. 

“I’ve missed you too,” she murmured back, hand winding its way into his cream tunics, holding on tight.

They spoke for a few hours, with Obi-Wan pulling out the holos that Malaya had sent him over the years, both of them laughing at the photos and videos. 

Qui-Gon came in after a few hours, to check on them, and stopped at the doorway. He smiled as he took in the sight before him.

Obi-Wan had Obala curled in his arms, the small child hanging onto him, snuggled tightly against him, as they both slept, and looking peaceful. Qui-Gon silently stepped back, closing the door.

Dinner could wait.

 

**8 months later**

 

Obala stepped into the Halls of Healing, adjusting her dark blue tunic as she looked around for Master Che. However, Master Che found her first. The blue Twi’lek smiled as she walked towards the young child. 

“Ah, Obala, it’s time for your monthly check up,” the healer announced cheerily as she approached. Obala sighed and nodded, knowing by now it was not wise to argue against the Master. She followed Master Che into the pale pink room, closing the door behind her. 

She stood quiet, doing as Master Che instructed, as Vokara checked her over. 

“So, what’s the prognosis, ‘Kara?” Obala asked, smiling as Vokara stepped back. 

Master Che had become a friend to her, a mentor, and Obala adored her. 

Master Che chuckled. “You’re fine, my little Imp,” she told her fondly. “You’re finally back at the healthy weight range for a child your age.” Vokara gently stroked Obala’s hair, which was tied back into a bun, though a little lopsided. Vokara laughed softly at the sight of the lopsided bun, before pulling Obala closer to her so she could fix it for her. 

The door to the room slid open, Taya, a Mon Calamari, poked her head in, smiling at the sight of them.

“Master Che, the Initiates are here for their vaccinations,” she announced. Vokara gave a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand tiredly over her blue lekku.

It was always a task to vaccinate the Younglings. 

“Oh, drat,” she mumbled, suddenly remembering. Vokara turned to Obala. “Obala, there are some supplies I need to have picked up, could you go grab them for me? These Younglings will keep us occupied for a few hours.” Obala nodded.

She’d been sent on many errands before, most of the people she’d pass would see the blue tunics of the Jedi Temple and would leave her be, the others got introduced to the stun blaster Quinlan Vos had delightedly gifted her after finding out she was Obi-Wan’s daughter (much to Obi-Wan’s horror).

Within moments, Obala had been given her instructions and was on her way, comm tucked securely in pocket. 

“Take care of yourself, Obala,” Mathias called after her as she stepped out of the Temple. Obala turned and grinned at the ginger guard.

“I always do,” she laughed, waving, before bouncing down the stairs and towards the streets of Coruscant. Obala still found herself taking note of all the high rise buildings, the different fashions of the different species, and the speeders flying overhead. She found the small shop she was searching for, a nondescript grey building jammed between two towering high rises, a dull yellow and green sign hanging over the door. Obala opened the door, a bell tinkling above her. An elder Mon Calamari came out from the backroom, giving a small smile when she saw Obala standing there.

“Ah, from the Jedi Temple, I presume?” she asked, indicating to Obala’s blue healer tunics. Obala nodded.

“Master Vokara Che sent me to pick up her order,” Obala answered. “She’s busy vaccinating the Younglings.” The Mon Calamari laughed at that. 

“Of course, dear, I’ll go get her order,” she said, giving a small wave of her hand, before turning back into the back room. Obala looked around the shop, there were a few rows of shelves with different crystals and plants, all meant for healing. Obala walked down the aisles, eyeing the different shaped and coloured bottles, to the herbs hanging from the wooden ceiling, to the different coloured crystals nestled on purple cushions, all meant to help with different aspects of healing.

“Here, little one,” Obala turned back to the counter as the shop keeper came back out. “I’ll put it on Master Che’s account,” the Mon Calamari continued, as Obala placed the small, wrapped packages into the bag she had brought along. Obala thanked the shop keeper and headed on her way, bag held closely in her arms to deter thieves. 

Obala found the other two stores quickly, getting what she needed, before she started to head back to the Temple. 

She was approaching the Temple when _something_ caused her stop. Her stomach spun nervously as that _something_ urged her to head towards an alley way. Obala cautiously approached, on edge, as she peered into the alley. Grey eyes widened when she caught sight of a Jedi, unarmed by the looks of it, fighting off a group of attackers. Obala glanced around as the Jedi struggled against the attacks coming from multiple directions, her eyes finding landed on a silver tube. The lightsaber was on the other side of the fight, away from Obala. 

Biting her lip nervously, Obala edged around the boxes piled in the alley, staying out of sight of the attackers. When she managed to get around halfway, she paused, peering out at the lightsaber and quickly calling it to her hand. Obala looked around the other side of the box, breath catching in her throat when she saw one of the attackers sneaking up on the preoccupied Jedi, a blade in his hand. The Jedi was preoccupied with holding off three attackers on his front, even if he did notice, he’d never be able to defend himself in time.

“Look out!” Obala cried, her free hand flinging out, bag of supplies dropping from her arms. The Jedi glanced over his shoulder, green eyes widening slightly as he watched the one about to attack him from behind suddenly go flying off into a wall, hitting it hard, before slumping on the ground. The Jedi pushed the three others away with the Force as Obala threw him his lightsaber, which he quickly caught and activated. 

The remaining attackers quickly took off at the sight of the green lightsaber. 

Sighing, the Jedi deactivated his lightsaber, finally turning around to face Obala. 

He was an older male human, tall and lean, perhaps in his fifties, with dark grey hair and goatee. His green eyes stared at Obala thoughtfully as Obala stepped out, picking up her bag and looking in it, making sure nothing had broken. 

“Thank you, young one,” he said, his voice deep and calming. Obala looked up at him, giving a nervous smile. “That was quite an impressive use of the Force,” he continued, nodding towards the still unconscious attacker. “Though, I have to admit, I’m surprised a young Healer has such a grasp of it, why are you not amongst the other Initiates?” 

Obala hesitated as she clutched her bag tighter. “I’m not training to be a Jedi, I-I help out in the Halls of Healing and Master Che is helping me and is going to teach me to be a Healer.” The Jedi frowned, arms folding into the sleeves of his large brown cloak. 

“A child with such grasp of the Force not training to be a Jedi, now why is that?” he asked, curious.

“Maste Yoda and Master Windu said I was too old, I turned up at the Temple too late,” Obala shrugged, shuffling slightly. The Jedi tilted his head, humming thoughtfully. 

“I think we should get you back to the Temple, young one, it seems you have a delivery to make,” he chuckled, indicating to the bag Obala was clutching. Obala nodded and they slowly started walking back to the Temple.

“My name is Master Deacon,” he introduced himself as they walked. “What is your name?” 

Obala hesitated before answering, “Obala.” Master Deacon looked at her, frowning.

“No last name?” he questioned. Obala bit her lip, unsure. 

She knew the Council wanted to keep it a secret, that she wasn’t to tell anyone until it was time, but _something_ was pushing her to tell him, telling her it was okay.

“Kenobi,” she murmured finally. Master Deacon paused, surprised, before chuckling.

“Ah, so you're Obi-Wan’s daughter, I have heard about you,” Master Deacon smiled, surprising her. “I should have guessed that from the copper hair and grey eyes, you look a lot like your father.” Obala smiled at that. “Though, I must admit, I am surprised that the Council haven’t put you in to be trained as a Jedi, did they test you at all?” he asked, curious.

Obala nodded. A few days after she had turned up, Master Windu had come to their quarters with Master Plo Koon, asking if they could test her Force abilities. Obala had agreed and she had ended up passing their test. Master Windu had told her he would inform Master Che so she could figure out how to best train her to be a Healer, Master Plo remained silent on that matter. 

“Did they test your blood for Midichlorians?” Master Deacon pressed. 

“Yes, I got a reading of 15, 642,” she answered. Master Deacon nodded, deep in thought. 

“A good result, fairly average in terms of Jedi,” he murmured to himself. Master Deacon looked to Obala once they reached the Temple. “Obala, I’d like to deliver this to Master Che with you, and then I was hoping you would come to the Council with me, I must tell them what happened during the attack.” Obala blinked, surprised, but gave a small nod. 

Maybe the Council needed to hear her story too?

They walked into the Temple, Mathias giving her a concerned look, before heading off to the Halls of Healing. 

Master Che looked up as she entered, a frown pulling at her lips when she noticed Master Deacon behind her. Vokara quickly got up to greet them, taking the bag from Obala.

“I apologize, Master Che, but I need to borrow your student,” Master Deacon murmured. “She helped save me from a group of attackers and I wish for the Council to know this.” 

Vokara gave Master Deacon a knowing look.

“You take good care of her, you hear me?” she warned him. Master Deacon smiled, inclining his head. Vokara turned to Obala, crouching in front of her. “Trust in your heart and your instincts, Obala, they will lead you down the right path,” she murmured, gently cupping Obala’s cheek in her blue hand. Obala blinked, confused, but nodded. Master Deacon led her from the Halls of Healing, Obala glancing back over her shoulder once more at Master Che, finding the blue Twi’lek smiling at her, before following after the tall Jedi. 

Master Deacon kept glancing at her as they approached the Council Chambers, which Obala had only been to once when she was introduced to the Masters. Master Deacon smiled reassuringly at her as they came to the door. The Council members all looked as they entered, looking surprised to see Obala accompanying Master Deacon. Obala glanced at the members sitting in their chairs in a half circle, the city skyline shining behind them in the large transparisteel windows covering half the walls.

“Master Deacon, something to report, have you?” Yoda asked, leaning forward on his gimer stick as he took in the pair. Master Deacon inclined his head.

“Yes, Masters, I do,” he confirmed before he told the tale of how he was tracking the gang on the mission the Council had sent him on, when the gang sent members to ambush him.

“They caught me by surprise and one managed to get a shot to my lightsaber, knocking it away,” Master Deacon admitted before continuing on, explaining how Obala had come by, thrown aside one about to attack him from behind and retrieving his lightsaber. Master Deacon walked so he was standing behind Obala, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

“This youngling saved me, there was no doubt of that,” Master Deacon concluded. The Council members all turned their attention to Obala, who tried not to fidget nervously under their stares.

“How did you come upon Master Deacon, Obala?” Master Windu asked. 

“I was coming back from running an errand for Master Che when _something_ made me stop and investigate,”

“ _Something_?” Master Plo questioned, leaning forward curiously. Obala nodded.

“Yes, I knew I had to go look, it was leading me there,” Obala confirmed, looking up at Master Deacon behind her. She blinked, realizing she only came up to his chest. Master Deacon just smiled at her, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. 

“Clearly, the Force led her to help me,” Master Deacon said, turning his attention back to the Council. “I was surprised to find out that she was Kenobi’s daughter, but more surprised to find that she isn’t training with the other Initiates, that she isn’t being trained to be a Jedi at all,”

“Too old, she is,” Yoda sighed, looking at Obala sadly. Master Deacon shook his head.

“You didn’t see the control she had over the Force, to throw that attacker away, even with no training,” Master Deacon countered, “and I believe the Force led her to me for a reason.” Master Windu frowned, leaning forward to look at the older Master.

“What are you proposing, Master Deacon?” he asked. Master Deacon looked at the Council members, taking time to meet each of their gazes. 

“If Obala accepts, I wish to take Obala as my Padawan learner,” Master Deacon announced. 

"After all of these years, you're finally going to take another Padawan?" Master Tiin asked, surprised. Master Deacon nodded in confirmation. Master Windu leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his lips. Obala turned to look at Master Deacon in surprise.

Then she realised that Vokara knew what Master Deacon was planning, that explained her message to them both. 

“What did Master Che think of this?” Master Mundi spoke up from where he was sitting to the right of Yoda. The Cerean master seemed amused by that. 

“She told me to take care of her,” Master Deacon replied simply. Surprised murmurs erupted between some of the Council members.

“Obala, what do you think of this?” Master Gallia questioned softly. Obala hesitated.

Vokara had told her to listen to her heart and her instincts. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly.

 _Something_ was telling her to accept, her heart **sung** with the answer. 

Opening her grey eyes, Obala looked back towards the Council. “I wish to accept,” she told them, her voice even. Master Windu looked to Master Yoda and nodded, before meeting the gazes of the other Council members, who nodded or inclined their heads. 

“Then it is decided,” Master Windu spoke up. “Welcome to the Jedi, Padawan Obala.” Master Deacon smiled, a hand lifting to rest on her head, drifting over the bun her copper hair was tied into. 

Soon he would select a lock of hair to tie into a Padawan's braid. 

“However, Master Deacon, _you_ get to tell her father about this,” Windu smirked, “and I will be there to witness it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to move now


	5. Insecurities

“You _what?_ ” Obi-Wan exclaimed as he sat down on the couch, shocked, staring up at the masters in front of him. Windu smirked as he looked to Master Deacon. Deacon smiled as he rested a hand on Obala’s shoulder.

“I’ve taken Obala as my Padawan, young Obi-Wan,” Deacon explained gently. “The Force led her to me for a reason and she _needs_ to be trained, you see it too.” Obi-Wan looked between Qui-Gon and Deacon, then to Windu and finally looking to Obala. 

“Are you okay with this?” he asked her. Obala nodded, looking to Deacon.

“Yes, I want to do this,” she told him, looking back at her father. Obi-Wan sighed, giving a small smile.

“Then be the best Jedi you can,” he told her. Obala smiled, walking forward and collapsing into her father’s arms, hugging him tightly. He held her close, chuckling softly in her ear. 

“Well, perhaps this is the best time to do Obala’s Padawan braid, with you all witnessing,” Deacon spoke up, smiling as he looked at the father and daughter pair. Obi-Wan nodded, letting Obala go. Deacon lowered himself into the armchair, Obala kneeling in front of him, looking out to the rest of the room. Windu sat beside Obi-Wan on the couch, the older Kenobi giving the Master a small smile. 

Deacon took Obala’s hair out of its bun, gently smoothing the hair down, before his thin fingers picked out a strand of hair by her right shoulder, dividing the strand into three before he nimbly braided them. He pulled a blue bead from a pocket within his robes.

“When did you grab that?” Windu asked, surprised. Deacon just grinned, winking, before he added it to Obala’s Padawan braid, tying it off. 

“And now you’re my Padawan,” Deacon told her fondly, gently tugging on the braid falling behind Obala’s right ear. Obala smiled, turning around to look at Master Deacon. 

“Thank you, Master,” Obala inclined her head. She quickly pulled the rest of her hair back into a ponytail as Deacon started talking to Windu, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Obala smiled as she played with her Padawan’s braid, fingers drifting over the blue bead.

Yes, this felt right.

 

Obala nervously adjusted her new Jedi tunics, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom. She smoothed down her copper hair, which was pulled back into a twisted high bun, and shifted her Padawan’s braid to sit over her right shoulder. 

“I can feel your nerves from in here, my little one,” Deacon’s voice called, filled with warmth. “Your first day will be fine.” Obala stepped out of the bathroom, looking at her Master who was sitting at the table, mug in hand. 

She had moved into a Master and Padawan room with her new Master two rotations ago, moving out of Qui-Gon’s and Obi-Wan’s quarters, with Obi-Wan sad to see his daughter go. 

Now she was about to attend her first lessons as a new Padawan, learning amongst other Initiates, most of whom were still waiting to be chosen by their new masters.

Master Deacon smiled at her reassuringly. “You look fine, Padawan,” he soothed. 

Obala tugged at the bottom of her cream tunics once more, sighing. “I guess I better get going,” she murmured. Deacon got to his feet, handing her a small silver tube.

“Your training lightsaber,” he explained. “Master Windu dropped it off last night; you’ll need it for your lessons. Soon we’ll go gather a kyber crystal to make your own, proper lightsaber so we can go on missions together,” Deacon gave a small chuckle at that. “Well, we’ll be sent on diplomatic missions while you’re still a young Padawan.” Obala smiled as she attached the training lightsaber to the brown belt around her hips. Deacon stepped forward, putting his hands on Obala’s shoulders.

“Learn everything you can, Padawan,” he told her, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. “You will be fine. Come, I will walk you to your first lesson.” Obala nodded and left the apartment, close by her Master’s side. 

When they reached the classroom, Obala was a bundle of nervousness. Grey eyes flickered from one Initiate to another as they stood in front of the room. 

_‘Calm, little one, calm,’_ Master Deacon’s voice soothed her thoughts. Obala gave a small nod, taking a deep breath to try calm herself down. 

“I will see you after your lessons, Padawan,” Master Deacon spoke. “I wish to hear all about them.” Obala nodded, trying to ignore the fact that all of the other Initiates were looking at them. Master Deacon gave her Padawan’s braid an affectionate tug before he turned and left, going to start his day. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” Obala turned at the sound of the voice, finding a young male Nautolan standing behind her, other Initiates surrounding him. Obala nodded.

“I-I’m new,” she explained. A female human with blonde hair frowned, glancing at the others.

“Wait, so you’ve _never_ been to classes before?” she questioned, brown eyes widening. Obala shook her head in reply. 

“How are you a Padawan then?!” a male human stepped up, glaring at her. “It’s not fair!” 

“I’ve only just become a Padawan,” Obala explained, hoping to soothe some of the angry looks sent her way. “I was learning to be a Healer with Master Che before that,”

“Oh, so you’ve had Healer training?” The blonde female asked, tilting her head. Obala nodded. “For how long?” 

“Eight months,” Obala murmured, shifting slightly under their stares. 

“Still, you shouldn’t be a Padawan with no training, we’ve been here since we were _born_ ,” the male human spat again. The blonde female rolled her eyes.

“Clearly Master Deacon saw something in her, Yuros, especially if he chose her so young,” she answered before stepping forward with a smile. “I’m Dani Law,” she introduced herself, bowing slightly. Obala bowed back.

“Obala,” she answered simply. 

For now, they would not know her last name. 

“All right, Younglings, come on now!” Their instructor, a black and white Togrutan, called from the doorway. Obala quietly followed the other Initiates, their instructor stopping her at the door.

“Ah, you must be Obala,” she spoke quietly to Obala. “Master Yoda did say you were beginning classes with us today. I am Master Tydra.” Obala gave her a small bow, making her smile. “I understand you’ve been under the tutelage of Master Che for the last eight months?” Master Tydra asked, head tilted. 

“Yes,” Obala answered, grey eyes glancing at her fellow Initiates, who were watching the conversation with interest. Tydra nodded.

“Well, you do have a bit of catching up to do, but I’m certain that you’ll have no troubles in doing so, especially with Master Deacon assisting you,” Tydra gestured out to the rest of the class. “If you would go find a seat, we’ll start today’s lesson.” Obala quickly did so, keeping her grey eyes down. 

Master Deacon lifted his gaze from the holopad he was reading from when he heard the door slide open. His smile fell from his lips at the sight of his Padawan standing in the doorway, looking dejected, feelings of uselessness coming from her.

“My little one,” Master Deacon sighed, getting to his feet, placing the ‘pad down on the couch. He crouched in front of her, tilting her head up so he could look into the sad grey eyes. “What is wrong?”

“I’m never gonna catch up, Master,” she mumbled. Master Deacon smiled reassuringly as he stroked her cheek.

“Oh you will, Padawan, you’re very bright,” he told her, “and don’t forget, you only need to worry about the important stuff.” He winked at her, prompting a small smile from his Padawan.

“Did you make any friends?” he asked as he climbed to his feet, stretching out his long limbs.

“One, I think,” Obala said quietly. “The others don’t really like me.” Deacon frowned at that, hand running through his grey hair.

“Now why do you think that?” he asked, concerned, as he put his hand on her copper head. 

“They said it’s not fair that I’m a Padawan, that I shouldn’t have been chosen, not when they’ve been learning since they were toddlers,” Obala listed, voice oddly dull, before she turned her grey eyes on to him. “ **Why** did you choose _me_?” she asked him. “Master Tiin asked if you were _finally_ taking another Padawan and the other Initiates said that you haven’t trained anyone in _decades_ ,” Obala looked at the floor once more. “Why did you choose _me_ when you coulda had a more trained Padawan?” 

Master Deacon sighed sadly, sad about all the insecurities Obala had about herself. 

“Come sit with me, my little one,” Master Deacon murmured as he walked to the dark blue couch, settling down on it. Obala walked over, sitting beside him. She kept her grey eyes focused on her hands folded in her lap.

“I chose _you_ because the Force led me to you,” Master Deacon explained gently. “I could feel it in my heart that _you_ were meant to be my Padawan, not anyone else.” Deacon reached out, pulling the youngling into his arms, holding her close. Obala immediately curled into his side, arms wrapping around his thin middle, seeking comfort from him.

He knew she was affectionate, probably moreso than the other Masters would think appropriate for a Jedi, but Deacon didn’t mind it. He liked having a Padawan that was happy to hug him and come seeking hugs and comfort from him. 

“I haven’t had a Padawan in decades, little one, because I didn’t connect with anyone, not until I saw you standing there in that alley way with my lightsaber in your hand,” Deacon murmured as he stroked Obala’s hair. “The Force pulled me to you and I _knew_ that you had to be my Padawan, even after you told me you weren’t being trained, I knew.” Deacon looked at Obala, hand stilling from where it was stroking her hair. 

“When the Council asked you if you wanted to be my Padawan, you stopped and thought about it, what did you feel when you thought about accepting my offer?” Deacon asked her gently. 

“That it felt _right_ ,” Obala answered, voice slightly muffled from where her face was burrowed into his dark brown tunics at the shoulder. 

“You felt the Force telling you the path to follow,” Deacon pressed. 

“Yes,” Obala mumbled. Deacon smiled, resuming stroking her hair.

“That is the same thing I felt when I saw you, Obala,” he said softly. “And I do not regret it for a moment. Do not listen to what the other Initiates say.” Obala nodded against his shoulder and Deacon smiled. “Now, my little one, what would you say about going to the Training Halls so we can go over your lightsaber techniques?” he asked her. Obala looked up, grinning, and nodded.

They had spent the day before going over techniques and having small spars for fun, Obala found it quite fun.

Over the next few months, Obala found herself catching up to the other Initiates in terms of course work and in sparring. 

It helped that she had three tutors in Master Deacon, Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as well. She loved sparring against her father, both of their blue lightsabers dancing against one another. Master Deacon had taken her to find her kyber crystal a week into her training, talking her through how to build her own lightsaber. He had beamed, proud, when she ignited her blue lightsaber. 

 

It had been almost a year since Master Deacon had taken her on as a Padawan, and since she had just turned ten, the Council had allowed Master Deacon to take her out on diplomatic missions. 

The ones where there wasn’t likely to be blood-shed. 

They were on a small planet, watching over proceedings between two clans as they signed a peace treaty. Obala was playing absentmindedly with her Padawan braid, fingers drifting over the three beads weaved there now, as she watched the two leaders speak. 

“This will be done soon, Padawan,” Master Deacon murmured in her ear. “I know it’s boring, but you’ve done well these last few days.” Obala looked at him and smiled.

“It’s not as bad as going to the Senate,” she teased quietly. 

Master Deacon was friends with quite a few senators from different planets, so he took Obala along with him to the Senate whenever he could so she could understand how it all worked, and understand how to work with senators. 

Master Deacon smiled as he examined his Padawan.

She had grown so much in the time she had been with him. She was no longer meek and shy, now confident and would stand up for herself, holding herself with pride. Her copper hair was done elegantly up in a braided bun on top of her head, gleaming under the lights, grey eyes sharp as they watched the proceedings before her.

Before she wouldn’t maintain eye contact, after years of being beaten for doing so, but now she would maintain eye contact, her sharp eyes picking up the smallest things. 

She was still short though, only coming up to his chest. 

Obala shifted, adjusting her cream tunic top slightly, brown boots crossing over one another as she crossed her ankles. Obala tilted her head, looking at him sideways, as she felt his distraction through their bond. Deacon just smiled at her, sending feelings of reassurance and then pride through to her. Obala smiled back, grey eyes dancing happily, before she turned and continued to watch the treaty talk. 

They left early the next morning, the treaty having been signed. Obala stood just behind Master Deacon, to his right, in her place as a respectful Padawan, bowing to the leaders as they thanked the Jedi. Obala tucked her hands into the sleeves of her brown Jedi robe, shivering slightly in the chilly, dewy, morning air. 

“You handled this very well, my Padawan,” Deacon praised her as they walked to their ship, which they had had to land in neutral territory, which was quite a bit of a walk from the main palace. Obala bowed her head.

“Thank you, Master,” she murmured. “I had hoped I didn’t overstep any boundaries when talking to the leaders, I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.” Deacon shook his head, smiling.

“No, little one, you did well,” he reassured her. “The leaders were very complimentary about you in fact,” he chuckled as she blushed. 

They were about at the ship, which Master Deacon had landed in a clearing in the woods, when Obala froze, breath hitching in her throat, sensing _danger_ and _death_.

“I sense it too,” Deacon murmured, hand reaching for his lightsaber. “Get to the ship, Obala, go!” 

A blaster shot rang out from the tree line, the shot hitting just in front of Obala’s foot. Obala quickly grabbed her lightsaber, igniting it. She stood near Master Deacon, watching as a group of thugs stepped out of the woods, blocking off entry to their ship. Master Deacon cursed under his breath as he ignited his green lightsaber.

“Stay close to me, Obala,” he murmured. Obala nodded as they faced their attackers. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Deacon called out, green eyes glancing from one Rodian to the next. The head thug, a large, green male Rodian, tilted his head.

“No meaning,” he answered before firing a shot at Deacon, who deflected it. The thugs rushed the Jedi duo and the fight for survival began. 

Obala tried her best to stay near her Master, but it soon became impossible as a group comprised of humans and Rodians attacked her, pushing her away from her Master. 

Master Deacon was attempting to fight off his attackers and was doing well, until he felt a sharp sting in his neck. Deacon reached up, pulling out a dart, his green eyes widening as he caught sight of a yellow liquid coming out from the tip. He looked to Obala, his stomach dropping when he realised what was happening.

They were herding her away from him. They had poisoned him and only him.

They were targeting _her_.

‘ _Padawan, get to the ship and leave, now!_ ’ he commanded her as he continued to fight. 

Obala glanced over at him from where she was fighting off her attackers, her lightsaber cutting through their blasters. 

Their bond suddenly felt weird, like Master Deacon was struggling, everything was slow and sluggish. She could just see him fighting from the corner of her eye and worried when she saw his movements begin to become sluggish. 

Fear spiked through their bond as Master Deacon dropped to a knee, struggling to breathe. 

“Padawan, run, go!” Master Deacon cried out hoarsely, fear spiking again through their bond as he struggled to deflect shots fired at him.

Fear for her. 

“Run, my little one, run!” Master Deacon yelled out once more. Obala’s grey eyes darted around, trying to find an escape route, when a terrible pain suddenly ripped through her skull. 

Obala cried out in pain, knees buckling slightly, as she felt the bond between her and her master suddenly rip. She quickly turned, grey eyes widening when she caught sight of her Master kneeling on the ground, a Rodian in front of him, holding the handle of the blade sticking out of her Master’s chest.

“MASTER!” she screamed, running towards him, pushing back her would-be attackers with a strong Force push. The Rodian stepped back, Master Deacon’s body dropping to the ground, unmoving. Obala skidded to a stop beside her Master and knew he was already gone. Tears poured from Obala’s grey eyes as she eyed off the attackers as they circled her. 

“Dart her now,” one of them muttered. Obala didn’t have any time to react before she felt a sting in her upper thigh. 

Immediately her sight began to waver and she dropped to her knees, limbs heavy. Her grey eyes landed on Master Deacon once more, seeing his usually warm green eyes were now cold and lifeless as they stared at nothing.

“I’m sorry, Master,” she whispered, pain tearing through her heart. 

_Help me! Please!_ She cried out into the Force before everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Master Deacon...  
> but I needed the story to move a bit more...

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's the prologue...thoughts?


End file.
